


cloud rakers

by TheBabbleRabble



Category: Assassination Classroom
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Families of Choice, Future Fic, Gen, Implied Relationships, Other, POV Outsider, Polyamory, Romantic Friendship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-01
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-05-16 17:06:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14815389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBabbleRabble/pseuds/TheBabbleRabble
Summary: You never really left that mountain.Variations on a theme – or: Class E and the things that stick, years later.





	1. Stand

**Author's Note:**

> the kids are alright and a little in love with each other. also known as that fic where class e keeps freaking people out over a decade later, i guess

At twenty-six, Asano Gakushuu was happy with the path his life was taking. His star in the government was rising, his name known across the country. Everything was going well. He just wished, sometimes, that he hadn’t gotten so tangled up with the former students of Class E.

Case in point: Akabane, Nakamura, and Terasaka.

Akabane had become a bureaucrat, of all things. It hadn’t seemed so bad, at first, but that illusion hadn’t lasted long. Back in school, he’d been a terror when leading the charge. He was even worse, Gakushuu quickly realized, when he led from the back. A year or two as a government stooge were all it took for Akabane to figure out how to put the right words in the right ears, to wear the right face at the right time and make everything go his way. He didn’t need to be Prime Minister or even all that high in the food chain—Akabane could stand at the bottom and shape the world.

“Ah,” he would always say with a winning smile, “I just keep my second blade sharp.”

Gakushuu, who’d made it his life goal to stand at the top, kind of hated him for it. But over the years they’d also reached an understanding—not quite a friendship—and Akabane had used his abilities to help Gakushuu enough times that he could stand to set his annoyance aside.

Nakamura had swanned onto the scene only a few years after Gakushuu and Akabane. She’d come back from her time in London fluent in five languages, with a job lined up at the American embassy. Somehow, she was scarier than Akabane, if only because her position was lower but her reach was impossibly farther. Her beauty, charm, and fluency had opened a lot of doors with ambassadors from scores of nations. Gakushuu wasn’t quite sure how she was meeting all these people when she was supposed to be a secretary.

If anyone asked, she always brushed it off with a laugh: “Oh, I’m just friendly, is all!”

She and Akabane got lunch every other Thursday. Gakushuu only knew because they would send him vaguely threatening pictures of their meals and ominous texts about their conversation. Keeping track of their schedules was also necessary to his mental health. If he knew where they were, he knew where they weren’t, and that was the important part about dealing with that pair of demons. He was pretty sure he didn’t actually want to know what they plotted during those lunches.

Terasaka was both better and worse than the other two. On the one hand, he’d mellowed out a little over the years. On the other hand, he’d gone into politics the same as Gakushuu, so they bumped elbows nearly every day.

Politics wasn’t what Gakushuu would have expected from him, though truth be told he hadn’t expected all that much in the first place. Still, Terasaka had a charm about him, rough-around-the-edges and honest. Wide demographic appeal, Araki called it: His past as a delinquent endeared him to young voters, and his dedication to ethics and openness caught the attention of older generations. His speeches were short, but powerful, always getting to the heart of the issue. The people loved him. Other politicians, not so much. No one wanted to go toe to toe with Terasaka when it came time to argue over new laws. The man was ruthless, sometimes. Senior politicians had left meetings with him in tears.

Gakushuu was at least sixty-five percent sure blackmail might be involved. It was probably Nakamura and Akabane’s doing, though. Terasaka wasn’t the type.

_(Asano doesn’t know how close to the truth he is. It’s actually Yada doing most of the legwork. Class E sticks together, even when they maybe shouldn’t.)_

Life, even working with that infuriating group, had settled into an easy pattern. It was almost enough to make Gakushuu forget what they really were underneath their business suits and calculated smiles.

Then things like this happened, and he remembered all over again.

He’d had the misfortune of running into all three of them at one time. A meeting with Terasaka, interrupted when Akabane and Nakamura had strolled in as though it was their living room rather than Terasaka’s office.

“Ne, Ryouma-kun,” Nakamura practically sang, dropping a bag of takeout onto his desk. Gakushuu checked his watch on reflex upon seeing her—Thursday, 1:07pm. Usually the two of them would be heading out to lunch about now. “Karma-kun told me the most interesting thing today.”

“Can it wait?” Terasaka made a big gesture with his hands, encompassing in that one motion Gakushuu, the piles of papers on his desk, the office as a whole, and probably the entire Japanese government in general. “Kinda busy.”

Akabane perched himself on the arm of Terasaka’s chair, slinging an arm around his shoulder as Nakamura sat on the edge of the desk and ran a hand through Terasaka’s unruly hair. Neither of them seemed to realize Gakushuu was there, and even Terasaka’s attention was turning inward, into that little world Class E had built for themselves.

A moment under their combined efforts, and Terasaka crumbled: “Okay. What is it?”

“One of our old friends from junior high called me last night,” Akabane said, leaning his weight into Terasaka. “You remember Red Eye-san, right? He says someone wants you dead. Ah, but don’t worry. He knows who snatched up the job, and Ritsu-chan has an inkling on who’s paying.”

“Oh, is that all?” Terasaka grumbled as he settled back in his chair. Deprived of Terasaka’s shoulder to steady him, Akabane fumbled a moment before regaining his balance. Nakamura tapped at his knee with the toe of her high-heeled boot, a teasing grin across her lips “Asano, we’ll have to reschedule. This should be cleared up by Monday. You free?”

Gakushuu didn’t let his feelings—irritation, surprise, no small amount of secondhand fear—show on his face. “I should be. Same time?”

“Yeah, unless something comes up. I’ll let you know by Monday morning.” Terasaka waved a hand, dismissive. The motion didn’t carry a sting—Gakushuu knew Terasaka had more on his mind than a simple meeting. Like his life, for one thing.

Though—Gakushuu paused at the door, glanced back over his shoulder at the trio’s smiles, suggestions to enlist the efforts of _Manami-chan_ or _Ryuunosuke-kun_ floating through the air as if they were talking about a simple prank instead of the looming threat of assassination. As if everything was well in hand, death a distant concern and life a dance of thrust knives and fired bullets.

Gakushuu looked at them and realized, _oh, you never really left that mountain, did you?_


	2. Bow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Following the revelation that someone is gunning for Terasaka, Hayami decides to proactively deal with her worry.

At half past five on Friday morning, Hayami sat down at the kitchen table and began to clean her handgun.

Someone wanted to kill Terasaka, and there was nothing she could do about it. Her fingers spasmed, unexpected, around the bottle of gun oil, and she went still until the tremors passed. _We’re taking care of it_ , Karma had told her the night before. _Don’t worry_ _so much._

Jerk.

Hayami took a deep breath and continued.

Karma was—well, he was a jerk and always had been. And he was too smart for his own good sometimes. And he really was trying to help, doing what he thought was best. (Letting his protective streak get the better of him). He’d always had a head for plans, for pulling victory from the hands of defeat, and maybe she ought to listen to him, and not worry, and let him handle it.

But, ah, here’s the thing:

Hayami didn’t _have_ to listen to him.

She finished cleaning her gun just as Chiba made his way out of the bedroom. By the time he had eggs sizzling in the skillet, she’d made her decision.

“Ryuunosuke,” she said, and waited for his soft _hm_. “Can I have the day off?”

He nodded. Then, with the sly smile he didn’t show anyone else, he said, “Keep Ryouma out of trouble, okay?”

When Hayami left the apartment that morning, she was wearing her sternest suit and had her handgun tucked into a shoulder holster beneath her jacket. A half-hour later, she met Terasaka at the door to his office and watched his face contort through seven separate emotions in under ten seconds. He finally settled on what their classmates had come to call Grouch #3: “I Don’t Need Your Help.” They’d all had a lot of practice ignoring that particular expression over the years.

“No,” he said as he unlocked the door. Hayami quirked an eyebrow and pushed him out of the way to do a sweep of the room, just as Karasuma-sensei had taught her. “Rinka, no.”

There was a bug just beneath the edge of his desk. She crushed it beneath her heel and moved on to the bookcase.

“Rinka, come on.” His voice was edging up into that wheedling tone he knew didn’t work with her, which meant he definitely wasn’t seriously trying to make her leave. Hayami pulled another bug from out behind a dogeared copy of _Catcher in the Rye_. Terasaka’s hand landed over hers before she could destroy the little device. “Leave that one, it’s Bitch-sensei’s.”

She put it back, but Terasaka’s hand—big, callused, the skin of his knuckles reddened from the recent cold-snap—kept hovering at her elbow.

“I don’t need a bodyguard, Rinka. I’ll be fine,” he said, all earnest and reassuring in his politician voice, the gravel almost but not quite smoothed out. She kind of hated when he talked that way, hated it the way she hated Karma’s carefully-phrased _don’t worry, we’ll take care of it_. It made all her muscles tense, reminded her too much of those awful journalists who’d kept dogging them all even through high school. The memory always sent the blood rushing in her ears, loud and crashing until she wanted to find some quiet corner to hide in.

Still, she didn’t pull away.

“Ryouma,” she said, meeting his eyes. That alone was a feat, and it did more than her words to convince him. “Please let me protect you.”

Hayami watched him parse out all the underlying meanings, everything she wasn’t going to say out loud. It was too many words, too many sentences, too much information, and that always left her tongue-tied and confused. But he knew her, and he knew what she wasn’t saying: _I’m doing this for my own peace of mind._

“Worrywart,” he said affectionately. “Fine, I guess there’s no changing your mind.” His free hand tapped at her gun through the fabric of her jacket. “This thing for show, or were you planning to get shooty today?”

“Loaded with stun darts.” She couldn’t help the smile that twitched at her mouth. “Just like old times.”

“Yeah.” Terasaka knocked his forehead against hers, just for a fraction of a second. His voice went low and tired, familiar from late nights and early mornings. “I’m glad you’re here, Rinka. Thanks for looking out for me.”

“Well,” she said, and had to clear her throat twice around the sudden rush of nostalgia, “well, nobody gets to shoot you but us.”

He laughed, his hand slipping away from her elbow. “Now it really _is_ just like old times!”

_No,_ she thought, _no, it’s just that we’re still what we became on the mountain._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you can pry autistic hayami from my cold dead hands  
> also it's four in the morning and this is very different from the original version of the chapter i'd planned. i didn't expect it to become hayami-and-terasaka heart-to-heart time but whatever, class 3-e are some good kids who love each other a lot


	3. Take Aim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karma catches a little hell, Itona has some fun, Kanzaki starts spinning the gears of a plan.

Most people who knew Kanzaki Yukiko would say she wasn’t a fighter. She was too sweet-faced, too kind. There wasn’t a violent bone in her body.

Itona was of the opinion that most people were idiots. Watching her break people down with that sweet, calm smile was one of his favorite past-times. She knew it, too, and sometimes she invited him over for video games and tea on the days she planned to rip into someone, just so he’d be around to enjoy the show. Today was a treat, because the person she was utterly destroying was Karma.

Karma, who was sinking down into his seat on the couch like he could just disappear into the cushions and escape.

“I wish you would have told me,” she said, disappointment dripping from her tone. Itona failed to fully smother a laugh, earning him one of Kanzaki’s truly devastating glances for disturbing the mood. It wasn’t quite a glare, no—if you wanted a glare that could freeze your blood, Kataoka and Kirara were your girls. Kanzaki just made you feel bad about all your choices.

Itona didn’t tend to regret his choices, as a matter of course. But Kanzaki had a way of slipping between the ribs like the gentlest and most elegant blade.

He had learned to admire that about her, the same way he admired Terasaka’s stalwart stubbornness, Kurahashi’s boundless energy, and—yes—even the knife’s edge of Karma’s confidence.

(Even if most of his admiration on that last point lies in watching it crumble, leaving behind the stuttering mess of golden-eyed fool Karma can become with the right push to unbalance his steady footing. It’ll take a few more years for Itona to admit fully to _that_ , if he ever decides to.)

Karma, in the intervening moments, had begun attempting to justify his terrible decisions.

“It’s nothing against you, Yukiko,” he said. “Not any of you.”

Itona made a _hm_ sound at that, because Kanzaki was too polite to do it herself. Karma, not for the first time that afternoon, glared at him as if he knew exactly why Itona was there and wasn’t all that amused by it.

_Not so happy when the tables are turned,_ Itona thought, not without fondness.

“It’s a delicate situation,” Karma continued. “This isn’t the mountain anymore. If we don’t go about this the right way—”

Kanzaki reached out to take one of Karma’s hands between her own. Itona felt a sudden, half-amused flash of pity as Karma’s voice petered out into uncertain silence.

“Karma-kun,” she said, with that sweet and ever-present smile, a hint of waver in her voice. The honorific alone spoke volumes about her upset. (Never anger, at least not that she’d let them see, anyway.) The rest of it was just icing on the act, really. “It makes me really sad when you keep secrets from me.”

Karma simultaneously stiffened like a mouse in the path of a hungry cat and sunk further into the couch cushions.

“I—” he started, voice cracking. He cleared his throat and tried again. “I’ll remember to keep you updated in the future, as best I can.”

Kanzaki held his gaze for a long moment. Whatever she was looking for, she must have found it in him, because she finally said, “That’s all I ask.”

The tense veneer of politeness bled from the room with her words, the game over with torture suitably rendered and a fitting apology extracted. Karma loosened like a cut thread, gained a little gumption back to smirk lazily at them both over the relieved sigh he almost managed to hide. Itona didn’t have to stop the laughter rising up his throat this time, and renewed chagrin turned Karma’s smirk a bit sharper. Then the expression softened into a smile as Itona stood, still snickering, took two shaky steps around the coffee table, and collapsed against his side on the couch.

“Enjoyed that, huh?” Karma muttered, just a touch of mischief there, a plan to get back at him for this later. Itona’s elbow, somehow, ended up in Karma’s rib, and then Karma’s elbow against his solar plexus, a brief and ungraceful tussle. Kanzaki picked up her tea, long gone cold, and pretended fondness wasn’t winning out over exasperation, and let them get it out of their systems.

When they finally stilled, out of breath from laughter and a little bruised from strikes not fully pulled, she caught their attention again.

“Now. Ritsu, Justice, and I had some ideas for how to solve this problem of Ryouma’s.”

“ _Oh_ ,” murmured Karma, scenting the potential for chaos. “Do tell.”

Her smile, as sweet as ever, her hands folded elegantly in her lap and her voice soft and gentle as she sketched out the details—looking at her, Itona thought again that most people were idiots. This was not a girl who needed protection, not a doll to shield from the dangers of the world. Kanzaki Yukiko, given a target and a reason, was as deadly an assassin as any of them.

And he thought

_this is what we became on that mountain_

and fell a little in love with all of them all over again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you couldn't tell already, this story is very deep in poly 3-e hell  
> this was also supposed to be a series of interconnected drabbles, but. plot?


End file.
